


Snap

by DoubleNegative



Series: The Locker Room: Check Please! ficlets [4]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: (ab)use of Snapchat, Cross-Posted on Tumblr, Established Relationship, M/M, Prompt Fic, Sexting, Texting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-31
Updated: 2016-05-31
Packaged: 2018-07-11 06:56:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7034548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoubleNegative/pseuds/DoubleNegative
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fifteen minutes, he promises himself. Fifteen more minutes of socializing, and then he’ll duck away to read Bitty’s text. It’ll be a reward system. It’ll make the night go faster.</p><p>It does not make the night go faster.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snap

**Jack Zimmermann:**

Turns out Snowy and Thirdy couldn’t make it, so it’s just me tonight. And a lot of bigwigs.

 

**Eric Bittle:**

I’m sorry, honey. :( I know you weren’t looking forward to this one. Can you duck out early?

 

**Jack Zimmermann:**

Can’t, have to announce silent auction winners. Looks like I’ll be trapped here awhile.

 

**Eric Bittle:**

)-:

Anything I can do?

 

Jack stares at his phone for a long time, contemplating the question. He has an idea of what he’d _like_ Bitty to do, but he isn’t sure if it’s a good one. Jack’s in a semi-public place. It’s not like anyone will be looking at his phone, but…

...but nothing, he decides. If he has to spend all evening making nice on behalf of the entire team, while his boyfriend stays home because the NHL is, as Shitty put it, “a wretched hive of homophobic villainy,” then some entertaining texts from said boyfriend are, quite frankly, the _least_ he deserves.

His therapist would be proud. Maybe.

He unlocks his phone again, and forces himself not to chicken out. Even so, he composes and re-composes the text several times before he finally manages to send it.

 

**Jack Zimmermann:**

Maybe you could send me some pictures? Snapchat or something?

But only if you’re in the mood.

You don’t have to.

 

**Eric Bittle:**

I assume you’re not talking about pictures of baked goods?

;-)

 

**Jack Zimmermann:**

Those would be ok too. None of these desserts look as good as yours.

 

**Eric Bittle:**

You send me a picture of you in that tux and I’ll see what I can do in return.

And for once I do not mean with baked goods. :-*

 

Jack’s terrible at taking selfies and Bitty knows it, but Jack’s also terrible at saying no to Bitty, so… He pulls up the app and switches it to the front-facing camera, praying that no one comes in while he’s holding the phone out in front of him and frowning in concentration. He snaps the picture and nearly sends it before he remembers he should probably smile. Three tries later, he manages a decent one, one he thinks Bitty will like, and he sends it off with a caption: “your move.” His stomach performs a little backflip, nerves and anticipation twisting together, and he has to take a moment to compose himself before he pockets his phone and rejoins the party.

He doesn’t have to do many of these black-tie events, and he knows that’s due to George’s influence, but she can’t save him from everything; she shouldn’t have to. This sort of thing is as much a part of the deal he’d made as playing hockey. It just isn’t as fun. And the uniform isn’t as comfortable.

(Although tonight’s “uniform” did have its perks. Jack hadn’t missed the way Bitty’s eyes had widened a little when he came out of the bedroom in his tux, nor the way they’d tracked slowly up and down his body before he stepped forward to tweak Jack’s bow tie and press a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth. “You better get going,” Bitty had said, expression heated. “Or I am gonna make you very, very late.”)

Jack’s phone vibrates once in his pocket, and he has to stop himself from reaching for it immediately. He picks up another piece of bruschetta instead, and nods along with the anecdote one of the owner’s wives is telling. _Fifteen minutes_ , he promises himself. Fifteen more minutes of socializing, and then he’ll duck away to read Bitty’s text. It’ll be a reward system. It’ll make the night go faster.

It does not make the night go faster.

Jack hadn’t accounted for Bitty’s years of selfie practice, or the enthusiasm with which he always approaches Driving Jack Crazy. A fatal error on Jack’s part, obviously.

The snaps start innocently enough: Bitty lying on the couch, long legs in short shorts stretched out in front of him. Bitty in their bedroom, wearing one of Jack’s Samwell t-shirts, baring just enough to make it clear that the shorts are gone. Best of all, a video: ten far-too-brief seconds of Bitty smiling at the camera, biting his lip, and winking, then a quick cut to the t-shirt puddled on the floor.

Jack has to splash some cold water on his face after that one. _Crisse_ , how are there still two hours of this event left?

 

**Eric Bittle:**

So far so good?

 

**Jack Zimmermann:**

You are a menace.

 

**Eric Bittle:**

I can stop if you want me to, honey.

 

**Jack Zimmermann:**

Please don’t.

 

The next video--Bitty’s bare chest, one finger idly circling his nipple--gets Jack through dessert and the first thank-you speech. He’s a little flushed, but if anyone asks, he’ll just pretend he’s sipping on his third or fourth glass of wine, not still nursing the first.

No one asks, and no one comments when he politely excuses himself from another knot of well-dressed strangers making small talk to hide in the bathroom and check his phone.

For his patience, he’s rewarded with two new snaps. In the first, Bitty’s sprawled out nude in their bed. He’s pulled the corner of the sheet over his hips, but it doesn’t disguise much; Bitty is obviously hard. In the second snap, Bitty licks up his palm and between his fingers, eyes sparkling with mischief. Jack accidentally bites his tongue.

 

**Eric Bittle:**

How’re you doing, honey?

 

Jack’s about to send a text reply, but it feels too one-sided. Bitty deserves more than that. He re-opens Snapchat instead, and angles the camera down his body, pointing it at the erection currently disturbing the fall of his trousers. On impulse, he cups one hand around it before he takes the picture. He wants to caption it, but can’t think of anything clever enough. He doubts Bitty will mind.

 

**Eric Bittle:**

Mmm very nice. :)

I can’t wait till you get home.

 

**Jack Zimmermann:**

Me neither. Hopefully less than an hour?

Silent auction is almost over. Then I announce winners, then George lets me go.

 

**Eric Bittle:**

Sounds good, baby. I’ll be waiting.

 

From the main ballroom, the emcee reminds the crowd that there are only fifteen minutes left on the silent auction. Jack takes that as his cue to reemerge, so he adjusts himself as best he can, pockets his phone, and plunges back into the fray once more.

He manages to announce the winners with a minimum of stumbling, and George rates him a respectable 7.5 on the Hockey Robot Monotone Scale. Given that his default state hovers around 7, he suspects she’s being kind, but he’s not going to stick around to argue the point.

 

**Jack Zimmermann:**

Finally free. Home in 30.

 

**Eric Bittle:**

You know where to find me. And keep the tux on.

 

Bitty’s attached one last picture of his hand wrapped around his cock, and when he sees it Jack nearly drops his keys.

 

**Jack Zimmermann:**

i takeit back hmoe in 20

**Author's Note:**

> PorcupineGirl said she could happily read an entire fic of snapchat flirting, and I realized I could happily write an entire fic of Snapchat flirting. It's also sort of based on prompt #17 from [this list](http://sadquebecois.tumblr.com/post/142978546215/send-me-a-pairing-and-a-number-and-ill-make-you): "Looks like we'll (I'll) be trapped here awhile." So here we are!
> 
> Turns out my emoticon game is even sorrier than Jack Zimmermann's. I apologize.
> 
> unbeta'd. originally posted [on my tumblr](http://www.onethousandhurrahs.tumblr.com).


End file.
